Twelfth Night in Tortall
by Andrea Rimsky
Summary: So it's been done before but I thought I try my hand anyway....your favorite Tortallans acting Shakespeare...
1. 1.1 The Disadvantages of live music...

Shakespeare is public domain, and Brahms c minor might be too, but Tamora Pierce isn't, and I acknowledge that she owns all of her characters, not me. All right. Don't sue. It isn't nice.  
  
So this has been done before, but I wanted to try too. I'm going to try to get through the whole play, however long it takes  
  
*to M'cha Aream--I'm sorry, the heart/hart thing was an honest typo. It's fixed this time around, I hope, but there will be others*  
  
CHARACTERS:  
  
VIOLA--Alanna of Trebond OLIVIA--Thayet jian Wilima MARIA--Buriram Tourikom SIR TOBY BELCH--Numair Salmalín SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK--Liam Ironarm MALVOLIO--Roger of Conté FOOL--Nealan of Queenscove FABIAN--Owen of Jesslaw ORSINO--Jonathon of Conté VALENTINE--Raoul of Goldenlake CURIO--Gareth of Naxen Jr. SEBASTIAN--Thom of Trebond ANTONIO--George Cooper CAPTAIN--Coram Smythsson  
  
Director, Miscelaineous Tortallans, musicians, anyone else who feels like showing up.  
  
Act 1, Scene 1  
  
Director: okay, everyone have their parts? Everyone here?  
  
George: Roger isn't.  
  
Alanna: that's because he's dead.  
  
Thom: but I brought him back, sister dear.  
  
Alanna: *draws sword on brother, muttering ominously*  
  
Director: Now, er, Miss Trebond, please calm--  
  
Alanna: *growling* That's Lady Alanna to you. *sheaths sword reluctantly*  
  
Director *over-brightly* Then let's get started! Mr. Contee and Mr. Naxen, we'll need you for the first scene. Now where are the musicians....?  
  
Jon and Gary: *trying to get over being adressed as "Mr."*  
  
*sounds of Brahms string quartet in c minor, opus 51 no. 1 are heard. A string quartet is noticed playing it*  
  
Vln1: *stopping* You're sharp!!! Everyone's sharp!!! Sharp! SHarp! Sharp! *runs off stage clutching head and shouting "sharp!"*  
  
Vcl: *shrugs*  
  
Vla: *keeps on playing*  
  
Vl2: *to violist* we've stopped.  
  
Vla: Oh. *stops playing* I need to re-tune. *leaves*  
  
Director: *coughs loudly*  
  
Vcl: *to vln2* let's start 4 before D, ok Then maybe you can come in right?  
  
*they start playing*  
  
Director: Excuse me, could you play something a little less...Romantic, please?  
  
Vln2: But Twelfth Night's a romance...  
  
Vcl: *starts playing "the Ants go marching"*  
  
Neal: *singing under breath* "The gods are on our side not theirs.../and if they're not, well then who cares..."  
  
Thayet: What was that?  
  
Neal: Er...nothing.  
  
Vln2. *starts playing greensleeves*  
  
Vcl: *plays pizz accompaniement to Greensleeves*  
  
Director: Now Mr. Contee-  
  
Jon: It's Conté  
  
Director: that's what I said. Now you enter from over here, with Mr. Naxen behind you.  
  
Gary: Why?  
  
Director: *begins long explanation of medieval class and rank.*  
  
Musicians: *leave*  
  
Tortallans: *look amused as director explains incorrectly things that they already knew*  
  
Director: *realizes no one is listening to her* Well then, let's begin. Take it away, Mr. Contee.  
  
Jon: Conté. *reads* "If music be the food of love, play on/ Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting/" Do I really have to say all of this? Let's just skip to where Gary comes in?  
  
Director *indignant* You can't just--  
  
Jon: *puts on 'I'm the king and you can't tell me what to do face'*  
  
Director: Oh all right.  
  
Gary: *reading* "will you go hunt, my lord?"  
  
Owen: *complaining* This isn't jolly at all.  
  
Jon: *reads* "What, Curio?"  
  
Gary: "The hart"  
  
Jon: "WHy so I do, the noblest that I have."  
  
Neal: *laughs*  
  
Thom: It's not funny.  
  
Thayet: I think it's funny.  
  
Neal:You do? *Makes eyes at THayet*  
  
Thayet: *backs away from Neal*  
  
Neal: *sighs*  
  
*Yuki appears, holding lady-fan menacingly*  
  
Neal: I was just joking!  
  
Director: *starting to get exasperated* If we may continue?  
  
Jon: "O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,/ Methought she purged the air of pestilence./ *starting to get into it* That instant was I turned into a hart,/And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,/E'er since pursue me./ How now, what news of her?"  
  
Alanna, Gary,Raoul, Buri, George: *laughing at Jon, but impressed, in spite of themselves*  
  
Neal: Wow! WHere did you learn to elocute like that , Your Majesty?  
  
Alanna: Elocute?  
  
Director: Mr. Goldenlake, we need your lines...  
  
Raoul: "She wouldn't see me. She's mourning her brother for the next seven years."  
  
Director: That's not in the script!  
  
Raoul: Do you actually expect me to say all of that! *gestures at his 9- line speech* I'm a soldier; soldiers give straight reports without frippery.  
  
Director: *very slowly, with clenched teeth* It's a play. Pretend and read the D### lines!  
  
Raoul: *reads very fast* "Sopleasemylord,Imightnotbeadmitted,/Butfromherhandmaid doreturnthisanswer:/Theelementitself,tillsevenyears'heat,/Shallnotbeholdherf aceatampleview,/Butlikeacloistressshewillveilédwalk,/Andwateronceadayhercham berround/Witheye-offendingbrine-- allthistoseason/Abrother'sdeadlove,whichshewouldkeepfresh/ andlastinginhersadrememberance." *falls over unconsious from lack of air*  
  
Buri: Don't just stand there! Do something to help him!  
  
Neal and Alanna: *rush over and attempt to revive Raoul*  
  
Director: *to Jonathon* you're next-  
  
Jon: You expect me to keep up with your stupid play when my friend is over there unconscious? *goes over to help Alanna and Neal*  
  
Director: *sighs* 


	2. 1.2 Alanna's Revenge--twice!

I still don't own the characters, the rest is public domain  
  
CHARACTERS:  
  
VIOLA--Alanna of Trebond OLIVIA--Thayet jian Wilima MARIA--Buriram Tourikom SIR TOBY BELCH--Numair Salmalín SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK--Liam Ironarm MALVOLIO--Roger of Conté FOOL--Nealan of Queenscove FABIAN--Owen of Jesslaw ORSINO--Jonathon of Conté VALENTINE--Raoul of Goldenlake CURIO--Gareth of Naxen Jr. SEBASTIAN--Thom of Trebond ANTONIO--George Cooper CAPTAIN--Coram Smythsson  
  
Director, Miscelaineous Tortallans, musicians, anyone else who feels like showing up.  
  
Act 1.Scene 2  
  
*Raoul is revived*  
  
Director: Ok, so lets keep moving. Scene Two. Miss Trebond, Mr. Smythosson.  
  
Alanna: I'm not "Miss Trebond". I'm Lady Alanna, or Sir Alanna, if you'd prefer.  
  
Director: *ignoring her* If we may begin?  
  
Alanna: *grumbling* Oh all right *reads* "What country, friends, is this?" If it say friends, why are only Coram and I in the scene?  
  
Director: *ignoring her*  
  
Coram: *reading* This is Illyria, lady."  
  
Neal: Funny, I thought we were in Tortall...  
  
Gary and Raoul: *laugh*  
  
Alanna: "And what should I do in Illyria?/ My brother he is in Elysium."  
  
Director: *interrupts* With more feeling please, Miss Trebond. Like this: *reads* "And what should I do in Illyria?.....*fake sobs* / My brother......*another sob* he is in Elysium!"  
  
Everyone: *looks strangly at director who is crying her eyes out*  
  
Director: *pulling herself together* continue.  
  
Alanna: *shrugs* "Perchance his is not drown'd: what think you,/ sailors?"  
  
Coram: "It is perchance that you yourself were saved."  
  
Alanna: "O my poor brother!"  
  
Gary, Jon, George, and Raoul: *snicker*  
  
Alanna: *glares at them* It's a play, all right!!! And anyways, I do love Thom!"  
  
Thom: Thank you , O sister dear.  
  
Director: *coughs*  
  
Alanna: "O my poor brother!" *glares* "and so perchance may he be."  
  
Coram: "True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,/Assure yourself, after our ship did split,/ When you and those poor number saved with/you/ Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,/ Most provident in peril,"  
  
*snickers*  
  
Coram: "bind himself,/Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,/To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;/Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,/I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves/So long as I could see."  
  
Director: *applauds* Bravo! YOu could take some lessons from him, Miss Trebond!  
  
Alanna: *who is reading ahead* Hmmm? *keeps reading* What! YOu mean I have to marry Jon!  
  
Director, George and Jon together:; It's just a play...  
  
Director: *prompting* "for saying so..."  
  
Alanna: but I don't want to marry him. Oh all right "FOr saying so, there's gold:" *hurls gold at Coram, who ducks. Gold hits Roger in the face*  
  
Roger: Who dares harm the great Sorcerer-Duke of Conté?  
  
Gary: Is it just me, Alanna, or does his ego get bigger every time he comes back to life?  
  
Roger: I will conquer!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
*everyone politely ignores Roger*  
  
Alanna: "Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,/Whereto thy speech serves for authority,/The like of him. Know'st thou this country?"  
  
Owen: THis really isn't jolly. When do we get to the fighting? *picks up stick and lunges around with it*  
  
Neal: *restrains Owen*  
  
Coram: "Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born/ Not three hours' travel from this very place."  
  
Alanna: "WHo governs here?"  
  
Roger: I do!  
  
Jon: No, I do. I'm the king, remember?  
  
Roger: BUt I will kill you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Jon: No you won't.  
  
Roger: yes I will  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
Roger: Yes  
  
Jon: No  
  
*everyone continues to politely ignore Roger and Jon*  
  
Coram: "A noble duke, in nature as in name."  
  
Alanna: "What is the name?"  
  
Coram: "Orsino."  
  
Jon: Orsino? WHat kind of name is that?  
  
Neal: Italian.  
  
Alanna: Don't interrupt, Squire.  
  
Neal: *does elaborate bow* A thousand pardons, gracious lady.  
  
Alanna: *shakes her head* "Orsino! I have heard my father name him:/ He was a bachelor then."  
  
Coram: Even in playactin' ye're still thinkin' on love, lady Alanna?  
  
Neal, GAry, Raoul, THayet, and Buri: *laugh*  
  
Alanna: *glares at them*  
  
Coram: "And so is now, or was so very late;/ For but a month ago I went from hence,/ And thern 'twas fresh in murmur, --as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of, --"  
  
Thayet: *mutters* don't I know it!  
  
Buri: *smiles*  
  
Coram: "THat he did seek the love of fair Olivia."  
  
THayet : *to herself* that's me.  
  
Director: Can you be a little quieter, Miss Wilima  
  
Thayet: Queen Thayet.  
  
Alanna: "What's she?"  
  
Coram: "A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count/ That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her/ In the protection of his son, her brother,/ Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,/ They say, she hath abjured the company/ And sight of men."  
  
Thayet: Father's love indeed!  
  
Director: Why don't we all refrain from making comments until the end, Miss Wilima  
  
Thayet: Queen Thayet  
  
Alanna: *bemused* " O that I served that lady/ And might not be delivered to the world,/ Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,/ What my estate is!" Whatever that means.  
  
Director: *begins speech about meaning of the word "mellow" in that particular line*  
  
*everyone ignores her*  
  
Coram: "That were hard to compass;/ Because she will admit no kind of suit,/ No, not the dukes."  
  
Thayet: *smiles at Jom* THat'll show you!  
  
Director: *exasperated* Will you please stop the running commentary, Miss Wilima?  
  
Thayet: That's Your Majesty. Not Miss Wilima!  
  
Alanna: YOu thought you had it bad, Raoul, now I 've got 15 lines! "There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;/ And though that nature with a beauteous wall/ Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee/ I will believe thou hast a mind that suits/ With this thy fair and outward character./ I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,/ Conceal me what I am, and be my aid/ For such disguise as haply shall become/ The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:/ Thou shall present me as" *chokes* what is this? THis is far too close to home for comfort! "Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:/ It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing/ And speak to him in many sorts of music/ That will allow me very worth his service./ What else may hap to time I will commit;/ Only shape thou thy silence to my wit." This is ridiculous!  
  
Director: It's only a play, Miss Trebond.  
  
Alanna *advancing on Director with drawn sword * I'm. Not. Miss. Trebond. Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again.  
  
Director: *seems unconcerned that most famed knight in Tortall is attacking her* Come, Miss Trebond, be reas-  
  
Alanna *chops off director's head*  
  
Vla: *appearing with viola in tune* You've killed him!!!!!!! DOCTOR !!!! DOCTOR!!! *begins having hysterics*  
  
*duke Baird of Queenscove appears*  
  
Baird: Now what? I was just sitting down to breakfast. Don't tell me my son has- *sees director with Alanna standing over* Lioness. *mildly*I wish you would control your temper. These things can be so messy to fix. *puts director's head back on and brings her back to life*  
  
Director: *sitting up* Thank you, Mr. Ahhh  
  
Baird: Duke Baird of Queenscove. Chief Healer of the Realm.  
  
Director: Thank you, Mr. Queenscove.  
  
Baird: *having never been addressed so in his life before* You're......welcome. *leaves*  
  
Vla: *still having hysterics*  
  
Vln 1: *appears* *at violist* you're sharp!  
  
Vla: It's the humidty.  
  
Vln: You're still sharp! SHarp!!!! Sharp!!!! Sharp!!!!! *runs off shouting sharp*  
  
Director: *cheerily* let's finish this scene up!  
  
Alanna: *gives Director the death glare*  
  
Coram: Now, Lioness... "Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:/ When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see."  
  
Alanna: "I thank thee: lead me on."  
  
Director: Very good, Miss Trebond. Why don't we all applaud for Mr. Smythsson and Miss Trebond.  
  
Vla: *plays pomp and circumstance. Is sharp*  
  
Numair: *getting misty-eyed* This is just like my graduation from the University.  
  
Alanna: *kills director again*  
  
Neal: Daddy.....we need you.....  
  
*duke Baird appears*  
  
Baird: Again? It's only been ten minutes! Nealan, I'll need your help with this... *they heal the director* 


	3. 1.2 Alex the Drama Queen and Neal the Kn...

I still don't own the characters, the rest is public domain

I'm sorry this took so long, but school started and all and the scenes are getting longer. Anyway, I hope to get another one out next weekend, but you never know and thanks to everyone for the feedback, particularly M'cha, but I already said that so on to Act 1, Scene 3!

CHARACTERS:

VIOLA--Alanna of Trebond

OLIVIA--Thayet jian Wilima

MARIA--Buriram Tourikom

SIR TOBY BELCH--Numair Salmalín

SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK--Liam Ironarm

MALVOLIO--Roger of Conté

FOOL--Nealan of Queenscove

FABIAN--Owen of Jesslaw

ORSINO--Jonathon of Conté

VALENTINE--Raoul of Goldenlake

CURIO--Gareth of Naxen Jr.

SEBASTIAN--Thom of Trebond

ANTONIO--George Cooper

CAPTAIN--Coram Smythsson

1.3

Director: *still recovering from being killed twice but cheerful as always* Miss Tourikom and Mr. Salamín ; you're beginning, of course, and then Mr. Ironarm enters later.

Numair: Salmalín.

Director: Of course, Mr. Salamín.

Numair: It's Sal-mal-ín. The em comes before the second a. Salmalín.

Director: That's what I said, Mr. Salamín. Carry on now, we're already behind schedule.

Numair: *gives up* "What a plague means my niece, to take the death of/her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life."

Buri: "By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights: your cousin," Do I have to say this? This is silly.

Director: Don't be ridiculous, Miss Touikom, you're being as bad as Mr. Goldenlake there.

Raoul: Hey!

Buri: *mutters* am not.

Thayet: *whispers something at Buri*

Buri: Oh all right then! *glares at Thayet* "your cousin, my lady, takes great/ exceptions to your ill hours."

Numair: "Why, let her except, before excepted."

Daine: *who has appeared on the scene* What's that supposed to mean?

Numair: *protesting* I'm just reading what's in the script

Daine: I'll bet... *grabs script away from Numair playfully*

Numair: *kisses Daine* 

Director: Mr. Salamín! And Miss, er *consults list*, Sarsria, I'm shocked!

Daine: *turns on director angrily* 

Numair: It's all right, she does that to everyone's name

Daine: Do you know what she just called me? Do any of you know common Gallan?

Neal: *murmurs* I took a course in colloquial Gallan last summer...

Director: I'm very sorry, Miss Sirsara, but, we really must continue. Miss Tourokim?

Thayet: She's not here.

Director: Then where is she?

Alanna: *looking around* And where's Raoul?

*intersting noises from off stage*

Director: Will someone please explain what is going on?

Neal: No.

*Buri and Raoul re-appear*

DIrector: Miss Tourokom. We really must stay on task here. You can't just wander off like that!

Buri: *ignores her*

Director: Your line please...

Buri: "Ay, but you must confine yourself within the/modest/limits of order."

Numair: *stops kissing Daine* Where are we?

Daine: *giggles, points out place in script*

Director: *glares at them*

Numair: "Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:/these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so/be/these boots too: an they be not, let them hang/themselves in their own straps!" 

Director: *approvingly* That's the spirit, Mr. Salamín!

Numair: *murmuring* All those years of stree performances finally paying off.

Buri: *bored with the whole thing* "That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard/ my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish/ knight that you brought in one night here to be/ her wooer."

Director: Miss Tourokom, please try to put feeling into your words. *goes off into whole speech about feeling*

*everyone else looks at eachother. Daine kisses Numair*

Director: *shuts up*

Numair: *really in the spirit of the thing* "Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?"

Buri: "Ay, he."

Numair: "He's as tall as a man as any's in Illyria."

Buri: "What's that to the purpose?"

Numair: "Why, he has three thousand ducats a year."

Gary: Ducats? What's that in nobles?

Neal: about 4000 gold.

Gary: Why so much?

Neal: Inflation.

Jonathon: What's inflation.

*the three begin a discussion of economics*

Numair: If you think that's bad, you should see what it's like in Carthak. We're worth almost double their standard.

Buri: And in Sarain...

Director: *coughs loudly* If we may continue....

Buri *glares at director* "Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:/ he's a very fool and a prodigal."

Numair: "Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the/ viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages/ word for word without book, and hath all the good/ gifts of nature."

Buri: "He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that/ he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that/ he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he/ hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent/ he would quickly have the gift of a grave.'

Alanna: *confused* Who's this you're talking about? Jonathon?

Neal: he hasn't come on yet, my lady.

Alanna: Who? Jonathon?

Neal: *explains to Alanna what is going on.*

Numair: "By this hand, they are scoundrels and subractors/ that say so of him. WHo are the?"

Buri: "They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your/ company."

Numair: "With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to/ her as long as there is a passage in my throat/ and/ drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill/ that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn/ o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!/ Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface."

Buri: What did you just call me?

Numair: It's just in the script!

Buri: I'm a warrior! A warrior, not a wench!

Thayet: Calm down, Buri, it's just a play.

Buri: *glares at Numair*

*Alex appears* 

Director: WHo are you? ANd where is Mr. Ironarm?

Alex: Liam was busy, he sent me instead.

Director: And you are...

Alanna: He's Sir Alexander of Tirragen.

Roger: Alex! My former squire, how pleasant to see you. Now we can get to work taking over the world!

Alex: *Edging away from Roger* Jon-Majesty! Forgive me! I deserve to die for my crimes against you! 

Gary: *mutters to Raoul* There's someone with the dramatic flair.

Jon: *confused* Alex, I though you were dead. 

Roger: You though I was dead, too, my naive cousin. *puts hand on Alex's shoulder*

Alex: Get away from me! Majesty, *kneels* I-I don't know how I could have betrayed you! *starts to cry*

Director: Can we please get started? Mr. Tirragen, take up your line.

Alex: *sob* Line? *sob*

Gary: It's a play Alex, you have the highlighted lines.

Alex: A play? *stops crying and gets up* I love plays! I've been practicing my dramatic flair!

Raoul: *mutters* It's obvious

Alex: *finding place* "SIr Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!"

Numair: "Sweet Sir Andrew!"

Alex: "Bless you, fair shrew."

Buri: Who are you calling a shrew? *draws dagger on Alex*

Thay: *takes dagger away from Buri*

Buri: *scowls at Thayet* "And you too, sir."

Numair: "Accost, Sir ANdrew, accost."

Alex: "What's that?"

Numair: *repeats* "Accost, Sir Andrew, accost."

Alex: No! That was my line! You've ruined it! *attacks Numair*

Numair: *turns Alex into a tree* oops. Guess I got a little carried away. *mutters spell*

*tree turns back into Alex*

Alex: We-elll?

Numair: I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it...

Alex: No! Say your line!

Numair: *gives Alex strange look* "My neice's chambermaid." *backs nervously away from Buri*

Alex: Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance."

Buri: *with clenched teeth* "My name is Mary, sir."

Alex: "Good Mistress Mary Accost,--"

Numair: "You mistake, knight; accost' is front her, board/ her, woo her, assail her."

Alex: *attempts to take Numair at his word*

Buri: *stabs Alex*

Neal: Hey, my dad said that he's not going to come fix you guys up any more. Lady Alanna?

Alanna: Nope. He's better off dead. *stabs Alex too*

Neal: *heals Alex*

Alanna: *glares at Neal*

Alex: "By my troth, I would not undertake her in this/ company. Is that the meaning of accost'?"

Buri: "Fare you well, gentlemen." *leaves*

Thayet: you're not done yet.

Buri: *gives Thayet the evil eye*

Numair: "An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst/ never draw sword again."

Neal: *laughs*

Raoul: *laughs*

Gary: *laughs*

Jon: *laughs*

Thom: I don't get it.

Alex: "An you part so, mistress, I would I might never/ draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have/ fools in hand?"

Buri: Huh?

Alex: "An you part so, mistress, I would I might never/ draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have/ fools in hand?"

Buri: "Sir, I have not you by the hand."

Owen: * complains* I don't get this. It isn't jolly at all.

Alex: "Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand"

Daine: Are you flirting with her, Alex?

Director: Miss Sasria, it's only a play. Of course he isn't really flirting.

Daine: I'd thought you could at least understand a joke.

Buri: "Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring/ your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink."

Thayet: Owen's too young to be hearing this sort of thing.

Owen: I don't get it anyway.

Buri: "It's dry, sir."

Alex: "Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can/ keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?"

Buri: "A dry jest, sir."

Alex: "Are you full of them?"

Buri: *who can see the end finally coming* "Ay,-sir,-I-have-them-at-my-fingers'-ends:-marry.-now-I-let-go-your-hand,-I-am-barren." Thank the gods thats over! *Runs away*

Numair: "O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I/ see thee so put down?"

Alex: "Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary/ put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit/ than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a/ great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit."

Alanna: What's a Christian?

*no answer*

Numair: "No question"

Alex: "An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby"

Numair: "Pourquoi, my dear knight?"

Jon: pourquoi?

Neal: C'est français.

Alanna: what?

Neal: It's French.

Jon: What's French?

Neal: Pourquoi.

Jon: What?

Neal: Pourquoi is French.

Jon: I know. You told me. But what is French?

Neal: The language of France. 

Jon: Where is France?

Neal: *shrugs* 

Alanna: how do you know everything?

Neal: *shrugs*

Alex: "What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had/ bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in/ fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but/ followed the arts!"

Numair: "Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair."

Alex: "Why, would that have mended my hair?"

Numair: "Past question; for thou seeth it will not curl by nature."

Alex: "But it becomes me well enought, does't not?"

Numair: "Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I/ hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs/ and spin it off."

Neal/Gary/Raoul: *laugh*

Alex: "Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece/ will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one/ she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her."

Numair: "She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above/ her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I/ have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,/ man."

Thayet: That's not true!

Buri: *sarcastically* It's just a play, remember, Highness?

Alex: "I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the/ strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques/ and revels sometimes altogether."

Numair: "Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?"

Alex: "As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the/ degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare/ with an old man."

Neal: What's a kickshaws?

Alanna: At last! Something my genius of a squire doesn't know!

Numair: "What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?"

Alex: "Faith, I can cut a caper."

Gary, Raoul, Jon, and Alanna: *Snicker*

Gary: Remember dancing class?

Raoul: And when he tried to dance with the Gallan Ambassador's wife?

All four: *crack up*

Alex: *glares at them*

Numair: *smiling* "And I can cut the mutton to't"

Alex: "And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong/ as any man in Illyria."

Neal: I know! A kickshaws must be some sort of dance!

Alanna: *ignores him*

Numair: "Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have/ these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to/ take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost/ thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in/ a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not/ so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What/ dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?/ I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy/ leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard."

Daine: *applauds* That was great! *kisses Numair*

Numair: *kisses Daine*

Director: *stiffly* Mr. Salamín, Miss Srisari: I am trying to conduct an exemplary rehearsal for the benefit of young people all over.

Alex: "Ay, tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a/ flame colored stock. Shall we set about some revels."

Numair: ....

Daine: Here, silly. *points out place in script*

Numair: *kisses Daine* "What shall we do else? Were we not born under Taurus?"

Jon: What's Taurus?

Alanna: *too late* Don't ask it!

Neal: The Bull. It's one of the 12 zodiacal signs.

Jon: Zodiacal-

Alanna: Shut up!

Alex: "Taurus! That's sides and heart."

Numair: "No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee/ caper;"

Alex: *capers*

Alanna, Jon, Raoul, Gary: *laughing so hard they're crying*

Own: This isn't jolly....

Numair: "ha! Higher:"

Alex: *capers higher*

Alanna, Jon, Raoul, Gary: *laughing even harder*

Numair: "Ha! ha! Excellent"

Gary: *dies laughing*

Neal: *fixes Gary* 

Gary: *still laughing*


	4. Martial Troubles in the Royal Household ...

Do I own these characters? Let's take a poll. Everyone who thinks that I, recreant cellist and fan fiction/fantasy writer that I am, own these characters raise your hands? I didn't think so. They're not mine. This is for eddification and amusement only. So there! 

And.......Act 1 Scene 4!

CHARACTERS:

VIOLA--Alanna of Trebond

OLIVIA--Thayet jian Wilima

MARIA--Buriram Tourikom

SIR TOBY BELCH--Numair Salmalín

SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK--Liam Ironarm (replaced by Alexander of Tirragin

MALVOLIO--Roger of Conté

FOOL--Nealan of Queenscove

FABIAN--Owen of Jesslaw

ORSINO--Jonathon of Conté

VALENTINE--Raoul of Goldenlake

CURIO--Gareth of Naxen Jr.

SEBASTIAN--Thom of Trebond

ANTONIO--George Cooper

CAPTAIN--Coram Smythsson

Director: Mr. Naxon, will you please stop that inane laughter!

Gary: *starts to choke all over again*

Raoul: *pounds Gary on back to stop choking but knocks wind out of him instead*

Gary: *stops laughing/choking*

Director: Right then, Mr. Goldenlake...

Raoul: *takes deep breath* "If the duke continue these favours towards you,/ Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath/ known you but three days, and already you/ are no stranger."

Alanna: "You either fear his humour or my negligence, that/ you call in question the continuance of his love:/ is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?"

Thayet: *giving John a strange look*

Jon: I thought we had discussed this already.

Thayet: So did I, so did I...

Jon: Thayet...

Thayet: *frostily* No my lord', I understand perfectly well. I'm just the homeless half-k'miri Sarain princess you took pity on in marrying. Your true love you can

Jon: *interrupting* Thayet!

Director: *uncomfortably* If you could continue this discussion later, Mr Conté and Miss Wilima?

Jon and Thayet: *both glare at director*

Director: *hastily, not wanting to miss chance to begin again* the play must go on, Mr. Goldenlake...

Raoul: *looking concernedly over at Jon and Thayet* "No, believe me."

Alanna: *deciding that best course is to ignore the royal couple* "I thank you. Here comes the count."

Alanna: *a little louder* "Here comes the count."

Alanna: Jon you idiot! Get over here and read your line!

Jon: *nervously hurries over* What? Where are we?

Thayet: Oh, so you ignore what I say, but when that little redhead calls you jump right to her!

Alanna: So I'm that little redhead' now? Do you remember, Princess, what you were when you first came to Tortall? I got you where you are. Jonathon asked me first and I turned him down for you, you ungrateful ^censored^!

Thayet: Fine. So everyone's against me. See if I care! *stomps away*

Jon: So where are we?

Gary: *points out place*

Jon: "Who saw Cesario, ho?"

Alanna: "On your attendance, my lord; here."

Jon: I know where you are.

Alanna: no, that's the line.

Jon: Oh. "Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,/ Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd/ To thee the book even of my secret soul:/ Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;/ Be not denied access, stand at her doors,/ And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow/ Till thou have audience."

Alanna: "Sure, my noble lord,/ If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow/ As it is spoke, she never will admit me."

Jon: "Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds/ Rather than make unprofited return."

Alanna: "Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?"

Jon: *loudly* "O, then unfold the passion of my love,/ Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:/ It shall become thee well to act my woes;/ She will attend it better in thy youth/ Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect."

Thayet: *from the back somewhere* I'm not listening!

Alanna: "I think not so, my lord."

Jon: "Dear lad, believe it;/ For they shall yet belie thy happy years,/ That say thou art a man: Diana's lip/ Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe/ Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,/ And all is semblative a woman's part./ I know thy constellation is right apt/ For this affair. Some four or five attend him;/ All, if you will; for I myself am best/ When least in company. Prosper well in this,/ And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,/ To call his fortunes thine."

Raoul and Gary: *giggling*

Alanna: It's not funny!

Gary: As you say, Squire Alan!

Raoul: I can't believe I never noticed... smooth and rubious' *laughs*

Alanna: * glares at him* I can still beat you with a sword, any day! "I'll do my best/ To woo your lady:/ yet, a barful strife!/ Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife."

Thayet: I knew it! I knew it! You harlot! All that time telling me you didn't really want him when secretly you were plotting to steal him!!! And you *turns on Jon* You......rake! *starts swearing in K'miri*

Buri: *gasps* 

Thayet: *takes dagger and kills Jon*

Raoul: Treason! *kills Thayet*

Alanna: *fixes Jon*

Neal: What about the queen?

Alanna: you need the practice. I'm not healing that ^censored^.

Neal: *fixes Thayet*

Thayet: Jonathon darling!

Jon: Thayet!

*they kiss passionately*

Everyone Else except Director who is on her cellphone: *gives eachother strange looks*

Director: *on cellphone* ...and they killed eachother! Just like that! With a sword...


	5. 15i Neal shows off like he has in every...

Wow! So many reviews! Thanks guys, I'm doing my best here.

12/01--I'm really sorry. But there were concerts, and History projects and math tests (oh my). That's why I'm only doing half of this scene right now. The other half will be written and up someday...I promise

DISCLAIMER: I don't own it. None of it. Not one little character. Except maybe the director. But I can claim to own it.....

I.v

CHARACTERS:

VIOLA--Alanna of Trebond

OLIVIA--Thayet jian Wilima

MARIA--Buriram Tourikom

SIR TOBY BELCH--Numair Salmalín

SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK--Liam Ironarm (replaced by Alexander of Tirragin

MALVOLIO--Roger of Conté

FOOL--Nealan of Queenscove

FABIAN--Owen of Jesslaw

ORSINO--Jonathon of Conté

VALENTINE--Raoul of Goldenlake

CURIO--Gareth of Naxen Jr.

SEBASTIAN--Thom of Trebond

ANTONIO--George Cooper

CAPTAIN--Coram Smythsson

Director: *gulps* Okay.....lets do scene five... Miss Touroom? *backs away as Buri steps forwards*

Neal: *jumping up and down with excitement because he finally gets a part*

Buri: *reads* "Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will/ not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in/ way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence."

Neal: *takes deep breath* "Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this/ world needs to fear no colours."

Buri: "Make that good."

Neal: "He shall see none to fear." *grins*

Alanna: Sooo clever.

Neal: *makes dramatic bow*

Buri: "A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that/ saying was born, of I fear no colours/'"

Neal: "Where, good Mistress Mary?"

Buri: "In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery."

Raoul: Hear Hear!

Gary: What?

Raoul: *shrugs*

Neal: "Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents."

Alanna: *coughs*

Neal: Hey! What was that about?

Alanna: Nothing.

Neal: I know what you're thinking: you're thinking I'm not good enough to be a knight. I know. I know! Everyone laughs at me. No cares about my feelings. THe walking medicin cabinet who tries to wave a sword. That's me. You all despise me,

Director: Mr. Queenscove! 

Alanna: Yeah Neal, do shut up.

Neal: *gives everyone a hurt look"

Director: Miss Tourokom?

Buri: *sighs* "Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent; or./ to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Neal: "Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage and, for turning away, let summer bear it out."

Buri: "You are resolute, then?"

Neal: "Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points." *adopts professor-like pose* Firstly, that all living things are made of cells. Secondly, that all cells come from other cells. I call this cell theory.

Buri: Huh?

Jonathon: What's a cell?

Alanna: Exactly.

Neal: Huh. And you call yourself a healer? 

Alanna: Now wait a minute! I taught you everything practical you know!

Director: *coughs*

Director: *coughs*

Director: *coughs*

Director: WE STILL HAVE OVER HALF OF THIS SCENE TO FINISH!

Buri: *whispers to Thayet* where am I?

Thayet: *points it out*

Buri: "That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break,/ your gaskins fall."

Neal: *cracks up*

Raoul: What's so funny?

Neal: "Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, tou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria." *pinches Buri*

Buri: *stabs Neal*

Alanna: You can't do that to my squire! *fixes Neal*

Neal: *complaining* I was just getting into the spirit of the thing.

Alanna: You should know better.

Neal: I, my lady? Do I ever know better?

ALanna: Obviously not.

Buri: *resheathing her dagger* "Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady: make your excuses wisely, you were best."

Neal: "Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!/ Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft/ prove fools; and I, that an sure I lack thee, may/ pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus? *pauses for effect* Better a witty fool, than foolish wit!' *Thayet steps forward* God bless thee, lady!"

Thayet: *giggling* "Take the fool away."

Neal: "Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady."

Thayet: "Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest."

Neal: Me! Dishonest! How can you, lady?

Director: THat's not in the script, Mr. Queenscove

Neal: *indignantly* I was improvising.

Director: *glares at Neal*

Neal: Fine. *reads flatly* "Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is/ the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. /Any thing that's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,/ what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away." Now wouldn't you rather that I improvised?

Director: *closes eyes*

Owen: Hey! Is she upset?

Alanna: *pokes Owen* Shut up.

Thayet: "Sir, I bade them take away you." Just showing the respect you Tortallans have for foreigners. I can't even count the times the servants are slow to execute my requests! I have no power! They all think I'm a savage just because my country s in ruins! And they're so lazy! In Saraine, they'd be dangling by their feet from the palace roof by now! *bursts into tears*

Neal: *turns pale*

Jonathon: Don't cry, sweetie, I'll make it all right.

Gary: First Nealan, now the Queen, what's with this?

Director: Please, Ms. jian Wilima. *realizes that's the wrong thing to say after Jonathon makes threatening motions with his sword* I mean.....here. *thrusts handkerchief at Thayet and retreats*

Neal: *clears throat* "Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non50 facit monachum;/ that's as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain."

Alanna: Cukolus non what?

Neal: *rolls eyes* Mithros preserve me from the unenlightened! It's latin. Most healing terms are written in it.

Jonathon: And legal too.

Alanna: BUt what does it mean you stupid squire!

Neal: If you can't figure it out, milady, I won't tell you.

Alanna: *sputtering with rage*

Neal: *very loudly* "Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool."

Thayet: *sniffing* "C-Can you do it?"

Neal: "Dexterously, good madonna."

Thayet: "make your proof."

Neal: I must catechise you for it, madonna:/ good my mouse of virture, answer me."

Alanna: *cuffs Neal* Follow the script like you're told, Squire.

Neal: But that's what it says.

Alanna: let me see *Grabs script from Neal and squints at it* Where are my glasses, the print's too small.

Gary and Raoul: *snickering*.

Alanna: *glaring at them* Never mind. *gives script back to Neal*

Thayet: "Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof."

Neal: "Good madonna, why mournest thou?"

Thayet: "Good fool, for my brother's death."

Neal: "I think his soul is in hell, madonna."

Thayet: don't you ever dare say that about my brother!

Burri: what brother?

Thayet: "I know his soul is in heaven, fool."

Neal: "The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. /Take away the fool, gentlemen."

Thayet: *sarcastically* Oh, very clever.

Neal: *bows* my pleasure, Your Majesty.

Thayet: "What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?"

Roger: "Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool." *smiles sinisterly*

Neal: *a bit shaken* "God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the/better increasing your folly! /Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool."

Roger: I, a fool! Never! I am the greatest genius and mage that ever lived!

Numair: Would you care to wager on that? *grins* Or better, test it.

Director: Get back to the wings Mr. Salamin.

Thayet: "How say you to that, Malvolio?"

Roger: "I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a/ barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,/ that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies"

Neal: Hey! Don't insult me like that!

Roger: *looks down his nose at Neal*

Thayet: *smiling* "Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite." Jon's told me so much about you, you see.

Roger: That's not funny.

Thayet: "To be generous, guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those/ things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove."

Gary: *groans* I thought I'd had enough didactic lectures from my father.

Neal: Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools!"

Buri: "Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you."

Thayet: "from the count Orsino, is it?"

Buri: "I know not, madam: tis a fair young man, and well attended."

Raoul and Gary: *giggle*

Alanna: *glares at them*

Thayet: "Who of my people hold him in delay?

Buri: Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman."

Thayat: "Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him!"

Alanna: I am not mad!

Thayet: "Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. /Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it."

Neal: "Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with/ brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater."

Thayet: "By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?"

Numair: "A gentleman."

Neal: *applauds* Brilliant answer Master Salmalín!

Thayet: "A gentleman! what gentleman?"

Numair: "'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these pickle-herring! How now, sot!"

Neal: "Good Sir Toby!" *mutters* Sot indeed!

Thayet: "Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?"

Numair: "Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate."

Thayet: No no, not lechery, lethargy.

Buri: *points out script to THayet*

Thayet: *blushes* "Ay, marry, what is he?"

Numair: "Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one."

Thayet: "What's a drunken man like, fool?"

Neal: "Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him."

Thayet: "Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned: go, look after him."

Neal: Oh, make me take care of the drunk wizard, that's right! "He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman."

Roger: *very bored* "Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you./ I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you./ I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you./ What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial." *complains* This is so beneath me.

Alanna: Want me to stick my sword through you a third time Your Grace?

Roger: *backs away*

Thayet: "Tell him he shall not speak with me."

Roger: "Has been told so; and he says, /he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench,/ but he'll speak with you."

Thayet: "What kind o' man is he?"

Roger: "Why, of mankind."

Thayet: "What manner of man?" Honestly, men. You can't get any information out of them!

Roger: "Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no." That's it! I've had it with this stupid play! *walks out*

Director: Oh dear. *consults list*

Alanna: I could bring him back for you. I wouldn't mind at all *gives evil grin*.

Director: *startled.* No no, that'squite all right. I'll simply call the alternate: Mr. Wylden.

Neal: Nooooooo!

Director: *pulls out cellphone* I'm afraid we'll have to pause for a bit until he gets here.

TO BE CONTINUED.


End file.
